Thir13en Ghosts Echoes
by Duckster's-Rave
Summary: First of a three-part fic. We all know what becomes of Dennis Rafkin, but what of his life before the deal with Cyrus? This is my attempt to fill those plotholes...
1. Runaway

**Author's Note:  
****This is the first part of a three-part fan-fiction that I'm currently working on. It's based on the film **_**Thir13en Ghosts; **_**which seems like just any other clichéd horror film on the surface, but underneath it had just enough character concepts, background ideas and plot holes that I could exploit to create my own story behind the film. It's been both a challenge (One hell of a challenge! – there's so little background to any of the characters to write them as effectively as possible) and a bit of a fun and mad trip too. I hope you all enjoy this and will give me even a tiny bit of a review (Come on, it's not like there's a shortage of 13G fans out there!) or a rating, maybe ;)  
Anywho's, enjoy and remember; I don't own the movie, but I sure as hell wish I did!**

**Part one - Echoes**

**Runaway**

Emma winced as the irritated cat scratched her again. "Jeez!" she exclaimed, placing the struggling ball of fur back on the ground. "I was only trying to help!" The cat in question sauntered off down the alleyway; seeming none the worse for wear from the collar that had been nearly strangling it only a few minutes ago. Its white tail flicked in a smug kind of way as it rounded a nearby corner. Emma rolled her eyes and sighed, her breath misting in the frosty night air. It was a few degrees below zero, and only now did the teenager shiver as she felt a chilling wind slice through her thin coat. Her fingers felt nearly numb, and as Emma looked at her hands she noticed that her black gloves had been torn to shreds by the cat she'd tried to help a couple of seconds ago. She decided to pull them off; after all, her hands were too cold to have been able to feel anything else anyway.

Emma was bored, pretty much freezing her ass off, and extremely uncomfortable – she'd been sitting in near silence in the alley for at least an hour and a half, wondering what to do next before she'd heard that choking noise and decided to investigate. It had turned out to be somebody's overfed pet cat that had probably run away from home – _like me, _she thought; and had caught itself by its collar on a broken drainpipe. Emma was more of an animal person than a people person; and no-one with even half an ounce of compassion would have left it in the state it was in anyway. _And all I got was my face and hands sliced up as thanks. – Lovely. _

_Maybe I should be thinking about going back to home, _she thought, then decided against it as she stood up and moved around a little to try to get some feeling back into her legs. Aunt Clarisse probably hadn't noticed that she'd gone out a few days ago without returning– and it was even less likely that she gave a damn. The only things that Emma's aunt were interested in were the television shows that she routinely yelled at, and the ever-present bottles of Jack Daniels and beer cans. Emma was only thankful that it was only another two years before she could claim the money left in the trust account by her parents, escape from this dead-end reality; and move somewhere where she could start again properly. Emma knew that it wasn't her aunt's fault for seeking refuge in the bottom of a bottle. Her husband had left her for another woman only a few months ago; and Clarisse had taken it harshly. As much as Emma knew that Clarisse needed help, she knew that her aunt wouldn't accept it or even notice. Emma knew that the only thing that she could actually do was to keep her out of Clarisse's way.  
Other runaways she knew could have been on the streets for just a few hours, or, like Emma herself, a few days. Nearly all of them centered in the bad parts of town – the Streets, capital 'S' – and one of the few places she knew that the police wouldn't try to come after her again. She'd been chased at least half a dozen times that day. She wondered who cared enough to call them in the first place. Either way; she had a feeling that it was time to be moving on from where she sat. Emma grabbed her backpack, checking whether she still had enough food to last her the week, and set off to the Streets to find somewhere to camp the night. Maybe she'd get lucky and find someone she knew would share their place for a while.

In the distance, sirens from police cars were blaring out, but Emma decided not to take notice of them. They were too faint to be close enough to be after her, so she kept on towards her unknown destination. She caught the sudden rustling of a garbage bag nearby and hesitated fir a second. It could have been a raccoon, but then she remembered that there were no raccoons in her state, let alone the city.Therefore, it _had _to be someone tailing her. _Damn! _Now she could hearthe footsteps more clearly, echoing at the end of her alleyway as the person seemed to make a decision about where they were headed. And that way was straight down the alley she'd been sitting alone in for the past few hours.  
"Damn!" Emma breathed out sharply, turning around to run, her boots splashing in the half-melted puddles of snow, causing her feet to feel even colder than they already were as the wetness soaked through – it felt like she was trying to run on blocks of ice. A shout rang out behind her, identifying her pursuers as the local police. Notthem_ again! _Emma thought to herself as she turned a yet another corner onto the main street, her long chestnut hair swishing behind her as she ran.

***

After what felt like hours; Emma came to a stop in the older part of town, the Streets as they were simply called. It was the place where most runaways centered, and only safe to be in if you were with someone else. The sorts of streets you didn't really want to be in alone if you were a sixteen-year old teenage girl. Streetlamps flickered tiredly above her as she walked down the abandoned main street, keeping a cautious eye out all the time. Most of the windows of the houses were either boarded up or had their windows smashed; and Emma could see the flickering of fires in some of them. She glanced behind, and was glad to hear that the sounds of pursuit had now faded. _I've lost them…for now. _Emma paused for a short while, trying to remember the route to one of the houses that she knew for sure was abandoned; then gave up after a short while. She could barley remember the way she'd just ran, let alone a place she'd last seen a month or more ago. Up ahead she could see the red glow of a fire in a broken window; and strains of laughter could be heard coming from it. Emma figured that anywhere with people she probably knew would be better than being on her own again.

Emma suddenly saw a flit of movement near one of the half-dead lampposts, and she turned to face it. An unwashed, slightly bearded young man's face peered out at her from underneath a scuffed-up New York Yankees baseball cap, and looked in her direction. She gasped, then immediately relaxed as she recognized the laugh that came from the person.  
"Gary! You idiot – you made me think you were either a drunk or an undercover cop!"  
Gary chuckled as Emma made her way towards him. "I swear, making you jump will never get old. You're just too damn twitchy!"  
Emma made a face; then whacked him lightly in the back with her heavy backpack. "Twitchy, am I?"  
"If I say no, will you stop hitting me with that bloody bag?" Emma smiled at the way Gary's English accent always came out when he was annoyed, or whining. Most of the time he did a lot of the latter. Gary had emigrated to America a few years back and was one of the more strange students at the local university. He'd spent the last few months on the streets originally as an experiment for his Social Studies class; then taken to the life like he'd been doing it forever. This fact hadn't made his boyfriend exactly happy, but he had just about managed to accept Gary's eccentricities. He was also one of the few people Emma actually felt that she could trust and count as a friend.  
Gary looked down at her from his rather annoying height. "Run away _again_? Is it Clarisse this time?"  
Emma snorted. "She probably hasn't even noticed that I'm not even in. I swear, she's only keeping me because she wants to get her dirty hands on my parent's trust fund. Soon as I'm old enough she'll try to claim it and then _poof – _I'm on my own again!" She thrust her hands in her pockets in an attempt to get some feeling back into them. Gary motioned for her to follow him and replied with a little more than a hint of confusion; "Can't you just go back to your parents?"  
As much as Emma was close to the older teenager, she hadn't yet told him that part of her life. She glanced away from him as she said in a hollow voice, "They're dead." She swallowed, and then started again. "I was dumped here with Clarisse as soon as they could find her. I've been here ever since."  
"Oh, my God, I'm so-"  
"Don't. Don't say it. Let's just get to your place."

***

Gary's current hangout was the entire second floor of a long-abandoned apartment block. It was the only useable floor; the rest had been demolished by the fire that long ago had swept across this part of the city, creating the Streets in the first place. Out of all the places he'd had to sleep, this one was a favorite, and he'd only found it a week back.  
Gary pushed open the door of 'his' apartment; the door squealing in his wake. "Home, sweet home," He murmured, his face set in its usual grin. Emma swept a look across the ever-messy rooms and shook her head. "Justin is going to kill you if he finds out what a dump you're living in right now."  
Gary just shrugged and made his way around the piles of abandoned coursework, newspapers and general clutter that littered up the once-tidy floor. "He hasn't yet. I swear, that guy's _such _a clean-freak it would have been better if he was a woman!" Justin was the most camp gay person that Emma had ever known, and she still had no clue how he and Gary had stayed together for so long. She shook her head, then made her own way around the clutter.  
"So, I can crash here tonight for sure, right?"  
Gary nodded; then made a motion towards on of the doors. "Through there – just pick any room. You look like you'll need the sleep – cops after you?" He didn't even bother to ask much else, and his quietness was what Emma liked about him. She knew that he would never sell her out. _Even if it _would _be in my best interests to go home, _she mused.  
"Been chasing me all week."  
"Girl, this is _not _going to look good on your permanent record."  
Emma made a face. "Do I look like I care right now?" She said, grabbing the door-handle to get into the bedroom. The girl froze like she'd been electrocuted. She could feel the sudden coldness that swept through her body like it had on so many other occasions before. A blade of pain jack-knifed through her head that made her nearly cry out loud. She screwed her eyes shut against the pain as her legs buckled beneath her. She didn't notice Gary turn around in alarm and make his way towards her with concern etched into his face. "Emma, are you okay?"  
Emma didn't answer him, just gasped as the pain intensified and her head was assaulted with white flashes – images she couldn't quite grasp or understand; but in a way she could sense what was going on, she could feel so many emotions at the same time, feelings she knew didn't belong to her. She knew what was going to happen next yet her hand seemed glued to the handle; and as the images got faster until they blurred, she caught a final impression of a knife stained in blood – she could literally feel it slice through her own body – then nothing but the sensation of emptiness. Finally the vision stopped, and Emma crashed to the ground, still shaking violently. Through slitted eyes she could see Gary kneeling beside her, indecisive about what to do or how to help, but not wanting to make anything worse.  
"Emma – what's going on? Please answer me – don't freak out on me like this!" Suddenly he was shaking her arm, trying to rouse her. Emma noticed she was on the floor and had stopped shaking as badly, but she was still shivering like the temperature had dropped even lower. "Don't touch me." Emma managed to mumble, and as Gary let go she shuddered once more; then let the darkness take her.

**Note:  
So, yeah, I've re-edited the first chapter because it was really bugging me, and I wanted to create a reason for Clarisse being the way she was because I simply couldn't connect with her, so you guys probably didn't either. Next chapter will probably be edited, and then Chapter Three is still going through about fifty drafts – yayy for being a perfectionist!  
And also thanks to the guys who have commented or added it to their favorite stories – It really made my day and got me to carry on with this ^v^**


	2. Things To Come

**Fifteen years ago, 1993**

All around the park; the sounds of children's laughter and shouts could be heard as they celebrated the last day of the school term. Winter was beginning to set in; but the day was still bright and warm as the sun shone down through the sparse clouds that still littered the sky. A loud gaggle of children between seven and ten years old ran past the old swings, laughing raucously.  
As the group passed one of the trees that lined the park; they heard the sounds of a dog growling rather menacingly and barking up the branches of one of the taller oaks. The little group paused as they glanced at the Doberman; then started as it turned its head towards them. Immediately its attention was directed back to the higher branches.  
"That thing looks pretty mad – whadda'y reckon it's after?" A boy in front who was clearly the ringleader of the group wondered out loud. A taller girl known as 'Klutzy Kate' answered him whilst backing away from the angered canine, "It's probably a cat – but it looks like we might be more interesting!" The gang all began to back away too – until they heard a sudden startled yell emanating from the branches of the tree.  
"Don't go! Please!"  
The boy in the red New York Yankees baseball cap cocked his head to one side as he attempted to get nearer to the voice, and grinned all over his ten-year old face. "That ain't a cat, Klutz!" He laughed. "I think I know _exactly _what _that_ is!"  
As the others, emboldened by the dog's indifference to their friend in the cap, began to walk towards the tree themselves; others in the group also began to laugh at the sight.  
Clinging to one of the thicker branches with his arms wrapped tightly around the bark was another boy, shivering slightly, wearing thick-rimmed black glasses and with a terrified expression on his face. The boy's brown coat was ripped and had evidently been chewed by the dog that had chased him up said tree.  
The short boy in the cap called out to him, "Hey, Rafkin! You need a hand up there?" but was unable to hide his giggles.  
"Oh, yeah; I'm great, Matthew – never felt better!" The attempt at a sarcastic tone was ruined by the shakiness of Rafkin's voice. "Can you help get rid of it? I've been up here for _hours! Please?_" He still had his face pressed tightly to the bark.  
Matt grinned again, "Maybe later, we've got stuff to do; you know?" and the small gang turned to leave; their interest in the joke now faded completely.  
Rafkin suddenly unstuck his young face from the branch, and the pattern was indented onto his face; which somehow found a way to look even more scared. "Guys?" But the plea had come out too late – the other children had already left. But so had something else – the boy listened for a second and realized that the dog had stopped barking. _Maybe it's gone. _He thought; and slowly began to unwrap his shaking arms from the tree's branch.  
Rafkin had just about managed to lever himself into a sitting position and was looking for a route down the oak - when he heard the growling start up again. The boy only had time to swing his feet out of the way before he glimpsed a blur of movement and nearly fell off in shock. He glanced down and saw the dog preparing to leap again at him again. Rafkin immediately went back to hugging the tree for dear life. _Oh, man; I hate dogs.  
_Dennis Rafkin knew that he wasn't exactly the luckiest eight-year old on the planet, but that day had pretty much set a new record of bad events…

***

After what felt to the boy like hours, the dog had fallen silent again. Dennis blinked, and ventured a look down to the ground. He grinned as he saw nothing there; but was still slightly wary in case it was pulling another trick. He knew he had to take a chance anyway, dog or no dog. The sun had already began to set, casting long shadows across the park, and Dennis felt sore and stiff all over. Other than himself, there were few others around, and he was surprised that nobody else had seen him in the tree; let alone try to get rid of the dog.  
After a few unsuccessful attempts to psyche himself up to jump down out of the branch, Dennis had only managed to gain himself a more precarious position by hanging on to the tree with just his hands.  
A voice rang out behind him, startling the boy into letting go, and he fell into a heap at the roots of the tree.  
"Hey Denny! Dad's had me looking _all over _for you! He's pretty mad you didn't come back for dinner – Mom was totally on the verge of calling the police!" A grin somehow crept into the voice. "You are in _so_ much trouble it's not even funny." Dennis turned his head to see his older brother Daniel making his way over, kicking up piles of leaves as he went.  
"But it wasn't my fault –" Dennis tried to begin, but was interrupted by Daniel, who laughed and shook his head.  
"What happened _this _time? The ghosts come after you again?" Daniel watched the younger boy pull himself up and laughed again. "You know Mom and Dad don't fell for all that baby stuff!"  
Dennis pouted; then pulled off his coat to show Daniel the mess it was in. "See? A dog chased me up the tree, and I was stuck up there all day and nobody even came to help me!" He complained, a whining note in his voice, but Daniel just raised his eyebrows and said "Well, maybe _this _time they'll let you off, but you _know _the next time you stay out all day by yourself they'll ground you for, like, forever. You know what Dad says about being out when it's getting late.  
The eight-year old sighed and fell into step with his older brother as they made their way to their apartment block. "I know, I know," He replied, then repeated his father's words that had been pretty much imprinted in his brain. "_Whenever you go out, stay with Daniel; don't go out of your brother's sight because you'll get lost. And _don't _go out alone! _I _know!" _  
Daniel just half-grinned and carried on in silence. Dennis looked up at him and wished, not for the first time, that _he _was the older one. It was hard not to be jealous of the 'cool' brother that was at least three years older than you, got that little more attention from their parents, and always seemed to be able to do what he wanted. _It'd be even cooler if I was an only child though, _he thought, looking up at the bright lights in the windows of their apartment block as Daniel pushed the buzzer to let themselves in.  
"Anyways; you'll only have to suffer mom's moaning for a li'll while – she's dragging me out to get an outfit for aunt Pam's wedding." Daniel rolled his eyes. "Why couldn't she have picked _you _to be a pageboy? I'm gonna look a total dork." He glanced over his shoulder to see Dennis trailing behind. "'Cause the dork look suits you _so _much better…" Daniel grinned at his little brother, than dashed up the stairs.  
"I am _not _a dork!" Dennis laughed, then gave chase.

***

It had been even more hours later, and still no sign of Daniel of Jennifer. Jonathan Rafkin paced around their room restlessly. He'd tried to call at least five times, but each time there'd been no reply. Suddenly he heard feet pounding down the hallway and the door burst open. His youngest son Dennis practically hurled himself into his parents' bedroom. He was shaking violently and tears were trailing down his young face. Jonathan's eyes widened in shock and he made his way over to his son. "Dennis, what's happened? What's wrong?" The boy blinked a few tears away and looked up at his dad, who was now kneeling beside him; but restraining the urge to hug his son. Jon had made that mistake before, and knew it would only agitate Dennis even more.  
Dennis sucked in a breath. "Dad, I had another dream-" He was cut off in mid-sentence by his dad, "It was only a dream, son – there's no need to get all worked up about it. These things happen, but nothing bad's ever come of having a dream, has it?"  
"But it wasn't…"Dennis sniffled.  
"I'm sure it was; Daniel and your mother will be walking through that door any second now, and you can put all your worries behind you."  
Dennis' mouth dropped open. "You mean they're not back..? But…"  
"It'll be fine – I can assure you. Listen – that'll be them right now." The doorbell had just begun to ring, and as Jonathan walked to answer it; he was suddenly halted by Dennis saying behind him, "Dad - Please don't go. Don't answer it…"  
Jon just shrugged off the words – with a little confusion – and opened the apartment door. "You could have always used your keys, Jennifer," He said as he undid the locks, "Although your arms are probably too full of shopping bags, ey?" His expression turned into one of confusion as he saw not the other half of his family standing there, but two young-looking police officers.  
"Mr. Rafkin, I presume?" One of them asked, taking off his hat as he did so.  
"Yeah, is there a problem, officers?"  
The female officer sighed. She hated this part of the job. "Is there a possibility we could come in to talk? I'm afraid there's been an accident."  
Jon's breath caught. "Jennifer? And Daniel?"  
The officer nodded, then stopped what she was about to say as she saw the small boy standing behind his father with a tear-stained face. She shuddered slightly as he looked her straight in the eye and said, "They didn't make it, did they…" It was a statement rather than a question; and there was something in the boy's eyes that already knew the answer.  
"I'm so sorry…" She said again. God, she hated this part of the job…


End file.
